Abducted
by Dragon Silhouette
Summary: Twelve nations have gone missing, sparking world-wide panic amongst the governments. It's up to the remaining countries to figure out who is responsible for the kidnappings before their bosses launch a war against who they think is the number one suspect: China.
1. Kidnappings

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.**

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**Chapter 1: Kidnappings**

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**_Liechtenstein's House  
Vaduz, Liechtenstein – 2:46 pm  
December 13th_**

Liechtenstein hummed to herself, swinging her plastic bag full of cloth and lace. Her wonderful big brother was so nice. He liked the last pair so much, she decided to make him another one. This one was for his birthday.

Stepping onto the porch, she rummaged through her pocket for the key. She inserted the key into the slot and pushed the door open. She set down her bag onto a nearby table for a moment and locked the door again. It was then that she noticed a strange smell wafting from the kitchen. Was someone cooking? No, it smelled like one of England's food gone wrong . . .

She walked to the kitchen. She was positive she didn't invite anyone over today, and she knew from Switzerland that she should _never_ let England into the kitchen – _ever._

Suddenly, a muscled hand wrapped around her neck and a large cloth reeking of an unknown substance pressed against her face. The rag was covering her eyes, so she kicked out blindly, holding her breath and squirming in her attacker's grip all the while. She felt her left leg crash into something hard – a chair? Something wooden crashed to the ground, eliciting a long stream of curses.

Liechtenstein's struggle became less violent; she couldn't hold her breath any longer. She needed oxygen _now_. She inhaled deeply, and that was when she finally recognized the smell.

_Chloroform._

And then there was darkness.

* * *

**_Austria's House  
Vienna, Austria – 2:46 pm  
December 13th_**

Austria sat in front of the grand piano, ready to compose another piece. Prussia was off badgering Germany and Hungary was . . . somewhere. He wasn't sure where, but she wasn't here. And Switzerland . . . Last he heard, he was shooting at Italy for streaking on his property.

No more distractions.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He placed his experienced fingers on the keys and played a few practice scales. In the middle of playing D melodic minor, he frowned. His G was sharp. But that never happened. His piano was _always_ in tune. He stood up, intending to examine the instrument. Perhaps one of the hammers was damaged . . .

He looked in, and was startled to see a small metallic device attached to one of the strings. He leaned in for a better look.

_Pfft!_

A spray of noxious gas erupted from the device, coating his glasses and instantly knocking him out onto the arms of a man that _really had not been there before._

* * *

_**Canada's House**  
**Ottawa, Canada – 8:46 am**  
**December 13th**_

Canada poured a generous amount of maple syrup over his tall stack of pancakes. It was sunny outside, the snow was beautiful, the economy was great, and the morning news spoke of a good Samaritan that helped restrain an armed burglar inside a nearby Tim Horton's café. He didn't know why the burglar would choose to rob a café, but no one was hurt and that was what counted.

He helped himself to his breakfast, keeping one eye on the television. The anchorman smiled at something his partner said, and announced that the Prime Minister's wife was pregnant. Canada made a mental note to congratulate his boss.

In the corner, Kumajirou looked up from his breakfast and growled, a piece of seal meat hanging from his jaws.

"What is it, Kumachee?"

The polar bear dashed off, his food forgotten. Canada frowned and stood up. He could hear him snarling in his bedroom. That wasn't good. Kumajirou only did that when something dangerous was nearby.

He rose from his chair and climbed upstairs, grabbing a nearby hockey stick. He peered through the door and was surprised to see a black-clad man struggling to shake a furious Kumajirou off his arm.

Canada raised his hockey stick and whacked the man in the head, cleanly knocking him out. He bent down to pick up Kumajirou, who was still rumbling at the man he had attacked. Red darts flew above his head and embed itself on the opposite wall. Mentally cursing in French, he spun around and bashed his stick into the other intruder's head. He pushed past the dazed man and ran downstairs, planning to call the police.

On the way down, he felt a small prick in his neck and immediately fell over unconscious.

* * *

**_Ukraine's Backyard  
Odesa, Ukraine – 3:46 pm  
December 13th_**

Ukraine carried her pitchfork outside, intending to clean it. She had been meaning to clean it up, but there had been so many diversions lately, she never had the chance to. Her back was acting up again, too . . . She needed to do something about that.

She bent down to pick up a stray hose, wincing as she did so. She heard someone behind her and spun around with a smile. She forgot she was holding a pitchfork though, so when she whirled, it resulted in said pitchfork to lodge itself in a very painful place in the man's anatomy.

Needless to say, Ukraine was horrified.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" She took hold of the man's shoulders and led him to sit underneath a tree. "I'm really, really sorry about that. Do you need . . ." She trailed off. Finally, she noticed the black clothes, the balaclava, and the dart gun.

The man snarled, and pulled the trigger. She yelped and instinctively raised the pitchfork. The dart ricocheted off the metal and dropped to the grass. A pair of strong arms from behind tried to wrap themselves around Ukraine's body, but she jabbed the end of her tool on the man's stomach, causing him to double over. She knocked the pitchfork over the man's head and glared. "Excuse me but –" She cut herself off. Her eyes glazed over. She dropped to the ground, the farming tool rolling off her grasp. A bright red dart fell off her shoulders.

The unlucky man who got hit in the balls smirked and reloaded his dart gun – just in case.

* * *

**_Dario's  
Milan, North Italy – 2:46 pm  
December 13th_**

Italy felt like eating pasta.

Of course, he _always_ felt like eating pasta, but this was different. This was a sudden, undeniable urge that needed to be satiated immediately.

He had intended to fly to Germany today to ask his friend to go to the beach with him (who cared if it was December?) – Switzerland wasn't happy at him at the moment – but this craving for pasta had to take priority! Sure, he only had half an hour left until his plane leaves, but he can always schedule another one.

So here he was, sitting at one of his favourite Italian restaurants, gorging himself on the greatest dish known to man. He drank the rest of his wine (it tasted a bit off, but it was still good). He stifled a burp and giggled. Dario had outdone himself. He smiled flirtatiously at a waitress carrying a tray of drinks. She really was pretty. Her long curly hair, those brown eyes, that cute nose . . .

_Bang!_

The waitress dropped her tray in shock, sending all the glasses crashing to the marble tiles. The diners screamed and huddled underneath their tables. Italy snatched a white handkerchief with a shaking hand and tied it to his fork, waving it around weakly from his position under the table.

_Germany! Germany!_ . . . Oh right, he wasn't here.

A man in black stood in the middle of the restaurant, pointing his gun threateningly. "Feliciano Vargas!"

Italy whimpered and shrank even more. He felt sick. He felt faint. He ate too much pasta and now, his stomach was churning because of the stress. Everything was blurry now . . . Hey, the waitress had a twin! No . . . Triplets?

Italy closed his eyes and slept. He didn't notice the man in black drag him from under the table and leave the restaurant.

* * *

**_Australia's House  
Adelaide, Australia – 10:16 pm  
December 13th_**

Australia sank deep into his bed, tired after a day with kangaroos. Those little buggers sure knew how to box! His koala rested in the corner, glaring at the window. He took no notice of this – the koala was always glaring evilly at something.

Just as he was about to sink into sleep, he heard his koala growl. He opened one of his eyes and immediately seized the nearest weapon – a lamp. He threw it at the man coming through his window and rolled out of bed. He opened one of the drawers and came up with a dart gun. He only used it to tranquilize animals, but he figured it would work on humans too. He stood up and hollered, "Ya wanna blue with me, huh? Why are you wearing that mask? What, ya got a face bashed in shit can?"

The intruder cursed and raised his gun, but the koala jumped and bit into the man's right arm. While the man was distracted, Australia took the time to yell more insults. "Get a woolly dog up ya! We don't want ya here, ya bloody galah!" It never occurred to him to actually use his tranquilizer gun.

The man took hold of the koala, ripped him from his arm, and threw the poor animal into the wall.

The koala didn't move.

Australia yelled even more. "Why ya gotta hurt an innocent koala?! At least his face is better than yours! I've seen better heads in a piss trough, I have." He hoisted the gun and shot at the man. The dart hit its target dead on, sinking itself into the neck.

"Ha! Try to break into my house, hm? Ya got no more sense than a native bear, and not half as good-lookin'!"

He was concentrating on insulting the unconscious intruder, and so was unaware of the two others lodging a pipe into the window.

He also didn't notice the knockout gas that filled the room.

* * *

**_Norway's House  
Hammerfest, Norway – 2:46 pm  
December 13th_**

Norway sat in his couch, conversing quietly with a fairy. She was complaining about the eating habits of a troll when she stopped and tilted her head. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth was gearing up into the beginnings of a snarl.

"What?" Norway asked.

The fairy shot to the door, just as someone knocked from the other side.

Curious as to who wanted to visit him, he strode to the door and laid a hand on the doorknob, ignoring the fairy's sounds of protests. It was probably either Iceland or Denmark. He opened the door and received a hard punch to the face. The last thought he had before blacking out was, _What did I do?_

* * *

**_The Supermaket  
Riga, Latvia – 3:46 pm  
December 13th_**

The market was busy. A not-really-fifteen-year-old boy jostled through the crowd and entered one of the bigger stores. He pushed through other shoppers, determined to reach the alcohol section. Once there, Latvia examined a bottle of alcohol. For some reason, Russia told him to go back to his own country and buy him some local vodka. He wanted to see what the differences were between Russian vodka and other vodka.

Sighing, he placed several bottles into the basket. After a moment of thought, he picked out a couple of other alcoholic drinks for his own. He needed it. When was the last time he drank alcohol again?

Hidden deep within the crowds, a black-clad man tailed the Baltic state into the checkout counter. When he was done with his purchase, the man slowly pulled out a loaded gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the roof, a few pieces of plaster falling from the ceiling. The sound of the gun echoed through the big supermarket and silenced the people for a moment.

He slowly enunciated, "I want Raivis Galante." He stared directly at Latvia, whose eyes had widened.

The man took hold of a nearby woman holding a child and pressed the gun against her head. "Raivis Galante."

Latvia let out a small panicked squeak. "W-wait!" He took a shaky step forward. The crowds parted, staring at him nervously.

The man shoved the softly sobbing woman away from him and shot the Nation with a tranquilizer dart. He smirked. _This was fun . . ._

* * *

**_South Korea's House  
Seoul, South Korea – 9:46 pm  
December 13th_**

South Korea was watching a Korean drama (that originated from him, of course) with rapt attention.

"_Oh, Mi-Cha, do you know how much I love you?"_

"_Hyun-Chik! This is too soon! I must . . ."_

He was totally ignorant of the figure rising behind the couch and pricking his neck with a needle.

* * *

**_Finland's House_**  
**_Helsinki, Finland – 3:46 pm_**  
**_December 13th_**

Finland was sitting in the middle of his living room, humming a Christmas carol and generally feeling great. He smiled happily to himself. Twelve more days until Christmas! He grinned at his Santa costume and went back to work. He wrapped up China's present (a giant Hello Kitty plush) and set it aside. Next, Russia's vodka . . . Where did he put it?

He stood up and went to the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, he was unsurprised to see the bottles of vodka on the bottom. He lifted the box and closed the door. Pausing, he opened the door again and grabbed a carton of eggnog for himself.

He went back to the living room and sat down on the floor again. He unrolled a sheet of wrap and concentrated on enveloping the box. After he finished that, he took a swig of eggnog and reached for France's present – a beautiful ornate mirror.

He blinked.

His head pounded. His pulse sped up. He was finding it hard to breathe. _What is happening?_ He rubbed his eyes. For some reason, he felt drowsy. Really drowsy. His unfocused eyes drifted to the carton of eggnog before he passed out.

* * *

**_Taiwan's House  
Taipei, Taiwan – 8:46 pm  
December 13th_**

Taiwan set the hot bowl of _mian xian_ on the table and pulled out a chair. It had been a long day. Her boss had dragged her to a meeting with some of Japan's politicians. It was boring, but Japan was there, so it was bearable.

She ate a big helping of noodles, marvelling at the taste. See, this was why she liked to cook. It always paid off after. The broth was a bit . . . off though. She shrugged; maybe she put in too much shallots? It didn't matter; she was so hungry, she could eat anything (except England's cooking – she'd rather starve than take one bite of his scones). Halfway through her bowl, she felt dizzy. Was she eating too much? No, she was really hungry . . .

She fainted.

* * *

**_Greece's House  
Athens, Greece – 3:46 pm  
December 13th_**

Greece petted the tabby cat, dozing as he did so. The cat purred.

He yawned.

He felt for the giant cross at his side and absently hit the "stealthy" intruder. He swung the cross again, this time giving the other intruder one a black eye.

He yawned again.

The cat purred.

He drowsily opened his eyes and whacked a third attacker in between his thighs. Ouch. "What do you think you're doing?"

A fourth intruder popped up from behind a table and aimed a dart gun at him. Greece ducked, shielding the cat in his lap. He jumped away from his couch and gently set the cat down. It rubbed its head against his leg before facing the attackers with a vicious snarl.

Greece firmly held the cross in his hands – sorry, Mount Athos – and smacked the black-eyed attacker in the head. Not waiting to see him go limp, he spun and hit the one holding the gun in the wrist. He snatched the fallen dart gun and rapidly shot at the others. The gun spat out two darts – which lodged themselves on two attackers' bodies – before running out. Greece threw the gun at the last assailant, hitting him in between the eyes.

Greece sighed. He really wanted to sleep right now.

Well, he got his wish.

He didn't sense the fifth intruder sneaking up behind him and pinching a spot in his neck.

* * *

_A single card fell from his fingertips, resting where twelve Nations used to lay._

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**Woo! My first Hetalia fanfiction.  
Totally excited for this.  
**

**Anyway, if you're wondering how I chose which countries to kidnap, I can tell you right now that it's very random. As in: I cut up a list of Hetalia characters, stuffed it inside a box, and pulled out twelve random Nations.  
**

**A few characters might seem _off,_ but that's because I don't know them very well. I try my best to keep them in character though . . .  
**

**It's going to be a while before I post the second chapter, so please be patient. I need to jot down detailed descriptions of what's going to happen in each chapter before I start typing up Chapter 2. Plus, I really shouldn't be doing this - I have other stories to deal with - but this idea came to me so long ago, it's hard to resist.  
**

**Reviews are very much appreciated :)  
**


	2. Course of Action

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.**

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**Chapter 2: Course of Action**

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**_Conference Room  
Berlin, Germany – 11:30 pm  
December 16th_**

Considering the circumstances, when Germany – along with a somber Prussia – pushed through the doors to the meeting room, he expected to use his best screaming voice to shut up all the warring Nations.

What he didn't expect was a tense kind of silence.

Everyone seemed on edge. England and France were glaring at each other (and France wasn't even trying to grope his European rival). America looked like he was one jab away from declaring war on every single continent. The Nordics were frigidly keeping to themselves; Denmark was holding his battle-axe in a threatening manner with his left hand. Russia's childish smile was gone, replaced with a sinister blank look that had everyone except Belarus trying to edge away from him. Germany could practically hear the _kolkolkol_ in his mind. Belarus, however, was giving dirty looks at anyone who so much happened to glance at her brother. The remaining Baltic States were looking down, doing their best not to shake with fear from being so close to two psycho Nations. Poland was the only other Nation willing to risk proximity with Russia to be with Lithuania. China and Hong Kong were worried; the former was practically strangling his Hello Kitty doll. Japan was as difficult to read as always; only a slight furrowing of his eyebrows betrayed his concern at the situation. Switzerland was clutching his ever-present gun in a death grip with his right hand while the other was playing with a piece of paper, his eyes darting from one Nation to the other. Romano was quietly mouthing obscene words to no one, while Spain was looking at his friend anxiously. Hungary was gazing at Austria's empty chair, her face plain and devoid of emotion. Her eyes were red and puffy though – she must have cried on the way here.

Another thing Germany noticed: not everyone was here.

The continents of Africa, Central America, and South America were absent. Most of Asia was not here, and quite a few of the Europeans were missing as well.

His eyes drifted over to the spot where Italy usually sat. It looked so dreary and depressing without the happy Italian to occupy it. When Germany had found out about the Italy's kidnapping via international news, he immediately booked a flight to Milan and informed the others about it, all the while keeping his cool and not freaking out. When he called China, he received the shocking news about Taiwan's and Korea's disappearance. Just then, another call came in and Germany was then informed about Norway's and Finland's missing statuses by Denmark. After that, he took call after call from unnerved Nations, all asking the same thing: _Where are they?_ That was when he finally decided to hold a meeting in Berlin.

Germany finally shook himself from his thoughts and went to take his seat, his brother following behind him. Their footsteps echoed ominously, seeming to be louder than it really was in the silent room. It was a relief when they were finally able to sit.

And then came the hardest part.

Germany cleared his throat and announced, "The meeting is now in session . . ." He trailed off, expecting America to interrupt him and babble heroic nonsense. It was disappointing (and a little awkward) when the usually energetic American stayed silent. _I will be so glad when this is over . . ._ "But first, where are the rest of the Nations?" He gestured at the empty seats.

"They went into hiding as soon as they heard the news, aru," China answered. "They think the kidnappers will strike again, aru . . ."

"Cowards," someone muttered, "the lot of them."

"That's enough," Germany said loudly. "Now, I know some of you had already examined the scenes where the kidnapping took place."

"Yes," Estonia started. He was more composed than Lithuania. "Lithuania and I pulled some strings and managed to get into the supermarket where Latvia was taken. Lots of police presence. There were dozens of witnesses, and all of them saw the same thing: a man in black taking down Latvia with a tranquilizer gun."

"That's impossible," Germany interjected. "Tranquilizers alone are not enough to take down one of us easily."

"Actually," America jumped in, "I got one of my forensic guys to study the darts left in Canada's house, and he said one dart contained enough of the stuff to take down four bears – apparently, it was extremely concentrated."

"Still," England huffed, "it would still take time for it to take effect. They might be slow and sluggish, but they should have been able to fight off a kidnapper."

"Perhaps adrenaline might have sped up the effects," Japan murmured. "And we don't know how many people were involved in capturing each of them."

China said, "And some of them might not have been in an adrenaline-inducing kind of situation, aru. When Hong Kong and I went to investigate, there were no signs of struggle in Korea's house, aru."

"Taiwan's dinner was spiked," Hong Kong stated.

"Before they went into hiding, Wy told Sealand to tell me that Australia's bedroom had lingering traces of unknown gas still in the air," England added. "When she stood there for fifteen minutes, she felt dizzy and drowsy at the same time. They must have gassed Australia . . ."

Prussia failed to hold back a snicker. Hungary sent him a withering look and gave a fleeting glance at her pan as a warning. He paled, and promptly shut up.

Germany decided to add what he discovered in Milan. "The restaurant where Italy ate – _Dario's_ – was full when an armed man went in and shouted out Italy's human name: Feliciano Vargas. According to the patrons, Italy was already unconscious."

"Probably fainted," Romano mumbled.

"A bit of blood was found on Norway's doorstep, but that's it," Iceland said quietly.

"There was a chair knocked over in Liechtenstein's house," Switzerland said with closed eyes. "Faint smell of chloroform, too. And a card."

"F'nl'nd's eggn'g w's t'nt'd," Sweden said in a low voice. "'nd s'me k'nd of c'rd . . ."

"I didn't see anything in Austria's house," Hungary admitted, sagging dejectedly as she did so. "I was busy at the time, and I was one of the last to hear of the news, so I rushed through the rooms. If the kidnappers used anything, I think it was either cleaned up or dissipated by the time I came to look . . ."

Everyone looked at Russia. They all knew that he would be the one to visit Ukraine's house for clues.

Russia said unhappily, "Nothing. The grass was scuffed, and her pitchfork was on the ground, but no fingerprints other than hers, da. And the _karta*_ . . . Kolkolkol . . ." His dark aura intensified. Poor Lithuania was sweating buckets.

"Did anyone check Greece's place?" Germany inquired.

Iceland said, "Turkey did. He told me that one of Greece's cats was howling nonstop; she had to be taken to the vet. She wasn't hurt, though. Mount Athos was missing."

Germany frowned as he took this all in. These were all professional kidnappings (they had to be, since they targeted Nations). But . . . how did they know about their existence in the first place? Officially, all of the personifications were diplomats from their countries, but what were the chances that of all the diplomats in the world, they happened to choose twelve Nations? And, from what he found out from the others, all the kidnappings were done with the Nations' capabilities in mind . . .

Then, he remembered what Switzerland said. "A card?"

He nodded and held up the piece of paper – the card – he was playing with for all to see. It was white with a black blob in the centre. "It has a silhouette of a rat in it . . . and that's it."

"I have one too, da." Russia held up an identical card.

Sweden nodded, placing his on the table.

"Did anyone else find a card?" Germany asked sharply. "This could be important."

America tentatively said, "I might have . . . but I threw it away . . . heroically . . ." He laughed sheepishly.

Everyone rolled their eyes at him.

"If there was a card in Riga – in any of the others' places if they were outside or somewhere crowded when they were kidnapped – it probably got lost," Estonia said.

"We searched through Taiwan's and Korea's houses rather fast, aru," China muttered. "We only had two days, aru . . ."

"Same situation here," Hungary added.

Germany picked up Sweden's card and scrutinized it, all the while thinking that this was the smoothest and most productive meeting they have ever had. _That is . . . kind of sad._ Just as Switzerland said, it was just a black silhouette of a rat with a plain white background. It was matching on the other side. Germany was sure that the abductions were the work of an organization; it was too neat to be anything else. This card might be their logo.

"Here's what we do!" America exclaimed, reverting back to his old "heroic" self.

Germany looked up, startled at the outburst. _It was so quiet . . . and you just had to ruin it._

"You guys back me up, while I'm the hero and beat up the bad guys and find our friends!"

"Sit down," England ordered. "We don't even know who the 'bad guys' are."

"New plan! You guys back me up, while I'm the hero and figure out who the bad guys are – and _then _beat them up and find our friends!"

"This isn't a joke, American bastard," Romano snarled. "Twelve of us are _missing;_ you can't be that conceited!"

Germany watched, crestfallen, as the Nations' restraint quickly became history and reverted back to their obnoxious selves. Romano, stressed because of his brother's disappearance, lost his sense of self-preservation and started insulting everyone in sight – including Russia (and, by extension, Belarus).

"Kolkolkol . . ." Russia pulled out his pipe just as Belarus readied her knives. Before Germany could stop them, they launched an attack at the swearing Italian.

_Clang!_

Russia's pipe was blocked by a gun that was wielded by America. "Cut it out! As the hero, I command you to stop fighting."

Belarus growled and threw a knife at the American, who hastily ducked. The knife stuck to the opposite wall – two centimeters to the left of Denmark's neck. The incensed Dane stood up, hefted his axe, and swung at Belarus. She jumped out of the way and crashed into Romano, who then reacted by instinctively trying to punch Belarus. Spain jumped into the fight, but was kicked out by a wayward kick from Romano (he was as useless in fighting as Italy). Spain hurtled into Japan, who then bumped into Hungary. She thought Prussia was trying to grope her, and proceeded to smack the nearby German with her pan. He flew across the room and landed on Russia – who was, by now, extremely pissed off – and Lithuania.

After that, everyone else got dragged into the fight in some way.

The rest of the Nordics reluctantly decided to try to rescue Denmark when Belarus started using bigger and much more dangerous knives. Poland and Estonia joined in because of (a very freaked out) Lithuania. China and Hong Kong threw in some impressive martial arts when Japan was accidentally attacked by both Romano and Spain. Somehow, the neutral Switzerland got thrown into the fray when an unknown country grabbed his ankle and pulled him into the fight. France, who was already arguing with England, misheard some of the insults Romano was yelling from the middle of the brawl and ran in, yelling French comebacks. The British man followed, not quite done with their squabble yet.

Germany stood at the sidelines, staring at the battle between countries with impassive eyes. Underneath the cool exterior though, the emotions he kept locked up bubbled and burst through the iron wall of his will. All the worry, rage, and irritation at the current situation made itself known in one powerful, booming bellow. _"STOP!"_

And they did.

The Nations took one look at Germany's terrifying visage, and decided that indeed, they wanted to live. The fight broke up. Russia, Belarus, America, Denmark, Hungary, and Switzerland all withdrew their weapons, while the rest took their hands off of each other's necks.

The scary German watched them all calm down with twitching eyes, then sat down himself. He shot one glare at America before emphasizing his next words. "_This is what we are going to do_: all of us are going to our bosses and get permission to get access to the government databases. We are going to research any organizations with this –" he held up the card, "– as their icon."

"A mysterious organization leaves their symbol on the scene of the crime," America mumbled. "Cliché."

Germany glowered at him. "We will meet up in two months to share our findings. Whose turn is it to host the meeting?"

Japan raised his hand.

"We will all meet in Tokyo in two months. Until then, no one is to do anything to search for or rescue the others without informing us. Do I make myself clear?" Germany pointedly glared at America.

There was a general murmur of assent.

Germany leaned back on his chair. "Good. This meeting is over."

* * *

**_The White House  
Washington, DC, America – 2:22 pm  
December 17th_**

America waited for an audience with the President of the United States.

After the meeting, everyone besides the very-scary Germany (America wasn't scared of Germany; he was a hero, and heroes didn't get scared and they most certainly did not almost squeak when they saw Germany's very scary face) fled the room (no, not "fled." Heroes did not flee – they fly away after saving the world!).

America had caught up with the quietly arguing England and France and proceeded to reassure them that everything would be alright (with him as the hero and them as his sidekicks, nothing could go wrong!). America was not laughing at the two black eyes France was sporting. He was _not._

(Okay, maybe a little. On the inside.)

England then started his "Don't Butcher the Queen's Language!" speech, which America ignored. France was dramatically mourning his injured eyes, claiming that they would never recover from the beating they took today. Never mind that he had gotten numerous black eyes throughout the centuries; never before had he gotten two at the same time! This time, there wouldn't be a beautiful eye to compensate for the ugly one!

That was when America decided to heroically ditch them.

After a long flight and some rest, he went back to Ottawa to pick up the polar bear from the vet. The bear's left back paw – what was his name . . .? – was healing up quite nicely. He had found the poor thing in his brother's house, scratching feebly at the closed door of his bedroom. Without opposable thumbs, he wasn't able to escape the room. The bear – Kumochigi? – kept asking who he was on the flight to Washington, DC, and America kept saying his name in reply absently. At one point, he had asked where Canada was (which slightly surprised him – didn't Kumechiro forget his owner's name?), and America had answered with, "He's going to be back soon, because I – as the hero – will rescue him from the bad guys!"

And now, he was waiting for the agent to come back and inform him of his audience with the President, Kamijirou safely snoozing away on his DC house.

A tall, broad-shouldered man rounded the corner informed him that the President was ready to talk to him.

America – being America – ignored the agent's lead and ran through the halls, eventually bursting into the President's office without as much as a knock.

The President looked up without a hint of surprise. He got used to it after the first twenty-seven times. "Good afternoon, Alfred. What can I do for you?"

America grinned. "Hey, boss! I want those super secret codes that can access everything in the country's database!"

The President blinked, and then crossed his arms on the desk. He had been dealing with Alfred F. Jones for years now. While it never ceased to amaze him that _this man_ was the personification of _his country_, he still managed to properly respond to his often-unusual requests with poise and decorum.

This time, however, he sat there gaping like a fish on land that had just seen the entire world's saltwater supply vanish in a puff of smoke.

"What?" he choked out. Never before had America asked him something _like this!_

America laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Oh, right! You don't know! Hm, I wonder if Canadia's boss knows . . . He must be freaking out right now . . ."

"What?" he repeated. "What don't I know?"

He turned solemn (something that had amazed the President). "Twelve Nations were kidnapped. We're trying to find out who took them and where they are, but we need access to information – _lots_ of information." He looked at him with those blue eyes of his – _damn it, not the eyes!_

The President sighed. He can see why this was important. Twelve Nations missing! But secret codes were also important – and America wasn't exactly the most responsible person out there . . .

"Here." The President ripped a page from a notepad and scribbled down a few letters and numbers. It wasn't professional or safe (far from it), but he would really like to finish his paperwork by sundown, and the two hours it would take to safely give America the codes could be used to finish a fourth of the stack. Besides, he trusts America. He had more than two hundred years of experience, after all. He had helped turn the United States into the most powerful country on Earth. (He ignored the nagging voice in his head called Common Sense.) "I trust you with this, Alfred. We both know how important and _dangerous_ these codes are if it were to fall in the wrong hands. As a hero, this is what you are going to do: after you finish with it, _burn it immediately._ We _do not_ want the evil people to get a hold of it."

America saluted, thanked his boss, and left the room.

* * *

**_Internet Café  
Washington, DC, America – 2:59 pm  
December 17th_**

America sat in front of his government laptop. It was extremely secure, almost impossible to hack, and was currently showing the country's most secret and deadly information.

He was in an Internet café.

He leaned back into the comfy leather armchair, glancing at the copy of the card Germany had emailed to him.

The most boring part of being a hero was information gathering (well, unless information gathering involved breaking into a house or interrogating someone – legally).

He was very grateful to the President for giving him the codes (he thought it would take hours of begging), but kind of wished he was still pestering his boss. It was more fun than staring at top-secret government files about some of the most dangerous organizations in the world.

He stifled a yawn and examined the twenty-seventh black rat (was that a mouse?) logo on the screen. God, his eyes were getting blurry . . .

He slapped himself, earning him a few strange looks. It was only afternoon, and he was already being bored to sleep! Maybe he could leave it to the other nations . . .

No! Heroes didn't ditch work to his sidekicks! With renewed motivation, he decided that no, the black rodent on the screen was not a rat at all; it was a mouse. Or perhaps a gerbil . . . NO! Who cared what kind of rodent it was (was a gerbil a rodent?)! As long as it wasn't a rat, it was wrong!

Besides, that definitely did _not_ look like a gerbil.

America sighed, rubbing his eyes and cursing his distracted thoughts. This was going to be a _long_ two months.

* * *

***Карта** **(Karta) = Card (please correct me if this translation is wrong; I used Google translate.)**

* * *

**As you can see, America's thought processes differ from Germany's . . .**

**I'm trying to improve my writing skills, but I'm still not showing signs of improvement in describing a character's feelings . . . ****And Sweden! Oh god, I have no idea how to write Sweden's speech. Did I do it right?**

**I actually wrote three versions of this chapter before I settled with posting this. The other two are just going to sit in my USB, gathering dust . . . Maybe for future reference . . .**

**Six reviews! I never expected that many, to be honest. This time, I'm hoping for at least eight people to review this chapter before I post the next one :)**


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